From the Bottom of My Scaly Heart
by Bookworm of Doom
Summary: A young witch from America learns the ins and outs of dragon research from her very talented master. Begins approximately at HPatSS time frame. I own none of the original HP characters!


Stella had always known that she was born in the wrong country. America had a very limited number of dragon species, and it was in that area that she was most interested. Now, looking at her, you would think no such thing. She was tall and curvy, with straight white teeth, thanks to years of orthodontia. Her hair was cut in a stylish blond bob, she wore a flowy summer dress and sandals. She looked much more the part of a flower child than that of a dragon researcher. You'd need to look much more closely to see any indication of her trade—see the wiry muscles that roped her arms, see the burn on her calf from her certification exam where she had to contain a Norwegian Ridgeback, and most hidden of all was the fiery look in her green eyes that practically begged you to challenge her.

She had just been certified as an apprentice dragon trainer and was ready to, at last, meet her master. She knew that she would be traveling far by portkey, and she knew that she wouldn't be home for quite some time. As for where she was going and who she was meeting, she had no idea. It was part of the ceremony that she not know until she arrived who was to be her mentor for the next four years.

This is why Stella was nervous as she dragged her over-stuffed trunk and backpack down the stairs of her family home and loaded into the car for the trip to the airport.

"Stella, I have no idea why you're doing this to me," her mother said as she clutched her heart and mopped her eyes with a handkerchief.

"Mom, please. We've been over this a thousand times!" Stella stopped, hoisting her trunk as well as she could into the back of the car. "I know this is what I want to do for the rest of my life. It's fun! It's exciting! And it really isn't that dangerous! I'll probably be doing mostly paperwork for the first four or five years anyway," she said as she crossed her fingers. Technically this was true; however, Stella was fairly certain that her future master would realize quite quickly that she was not meant for paperwork. In the wizarding world of America, witches and wizards didn't usually graduate from the various wizarding schools until they reached age eighteen. However, Stella had, from an early age, shown an uncanny ability for all things magical. She had graduated from the Salem Witch's Academy at an unheard of fifteen years of age and spent the next two years doing guided field research locally with wizard scientists twice her age. Now, with her eighteenth birthday fast approaching, she was old enough to go internationally to study the lovely, scaly creatures with which she was so enraptured.

The ride to the airport was long and uncomfortable. Her mother chattered incessantly about how dangerous her plan was and her father, not one to get in the line of fire, sat back and chuckled at the faces Stella made at him. It was from her father that Stella had gotten her intelligence. He was Muggle-born, which is how he ran a dual Muggle and wizarding doctor's office in their home town.

At last, they arrived at the airport. They pulled into the W Terminal—a terminal invisible to Muggles. Stella's mother went to find a cart as Stella said a tearful good-bye to her father. "I'll write you as soon as I can… and I'll save up for some Floo Powder to come visit you as soon as I can, I promise. I love you, Daddy!"

"Love you too, dear. Have fun. Don't get eaten… please." He pulled Stella into one last quick hug before hastily wiping his eyes and getting back into the car.

"Bye, Mama,"

"Well… Bye, Stella. Here's all of your journey information, the man over there says he can help you. And… here. This is all the presents from your aunts and uncles. They wanted me to wish you well," her mother thrust a small pouch of what felt like at least twenty galleons into her hand—a small fortune. "And I almost forgot!" Her mother gave her an extra kiss on the cheek. "That's from your brother. He said to tell you that he's going to visit as soon as possible. I love you!"

Stella, still in awe that her mother had given her such a large sum of money, gave her a quick hug good-bye and choked back tears and waved as her parents drove off into the distance. She took a deep breath and walked inside the terminal, a large open room with plenty of windows. There were several other wizarding families in various lines to various locations by various modes of transport. She could see on the far right of the room under the sign "Broomstick Regulation Desk" a man arguing vehemently that his broomstick was plenty safe enough for three members of his family, as his wife held a squalling three year old. Stella headed to the desk farthest to the left that had a large sign over it reading "Portkeys: International". There was no one else in her line. She took a brave step forward.

"All right, there? Ready to go?" The man behind the counter asked.

Stella cleared her throat. "Yes, of course. Here's my information," hoping she sounded braver than she felt.

"Ahh," the man said, glancing at her information and then moving her trunk to the other side of the counter with a flick of his wand. "You're the apprentice, I see. We've been waiting for you! You have your wand and a form of identification with you, correct?"

"Um, yes, of course." She placed them on the table, trying not to cringe at the horrid driver's license picture from two years before. Her wand, however, was a great source of pride for her. Eleven inches, elm, with a phoenix feather core, it was an incredibly beautiful wand and Stella worked hard to take proper care of it.

"All right, this seems in order. You got anything breakable in the trunk?"

"Yeah, my camera and my broom are in there."

"Alrighty," the man said, slapping a sticker that said "FRAGILE" on the side of the trunk. He pointed to a large black door to the left of Stella. "Head through that door, there's a Portkey on the table. You're the only one taking it and it leaves in," the wizard glanced at the clock on the wall, "Three minutes. Have a nice trip!"

Stella gulped and pushed on the door, hard. It swung open to reveal a small room with an even smaller oak table. On it sat a large volume of the Encarta Encyclopedia. Stella sat down at the table, on hand on top of the book. With the other hand, she secured her backpack, checked that her wand was stored safely in her wand compartment in her purse, and nervously fiddled with her bangs. She glanced at her watch. She had ten seconds. Deep breath in. Out. In. Out. And—

She felt her legs leave the ground, the familiar jerking sensation, she was spinning and whirling, holding tightly to her purse—how long would this take? After what felt like a full minute, Stella felt ground beneath her feet—cold, wet ground. She lost her balance and was about to fall, but a pair of strong arms caught her.

"Well, well!" Came a good-natured voice from above her. "They didn't tell me you were a girl!" The arms righted Stella and she turned around quickly. They belonged to a solidly built red-head with too many freckles to count. His smile was quite contagious and Stella smiled back, sticking out her hand.

"I'm Stella. Thanks for catching me!"

The red-head took her hand and shook it firmly. "My pleasure. And I'm Charlie Weasley. I'll be your new boss!"

Stella's mouth dropped open. "_The_ Charlie Weasley?! I wrote my thesis on you at SWA! I thought you'd be older."

"Most people do. Now come on, we'd better head back before you catch a cold!"

Stella noticed with a start how cold it was. She shivered. Charlie handed her his coat, saying "I hardly notice it any more, the mountains are cold year round."

"Where are we, exactly?" Stella said, thankful for the coat, though it was quite big on her.

"Romania. I've been here for a few months now, working with some other wizards. They're all gathering up their own apprentices," he smiled. "Everyone was quite jealous of me when they read your profile. None of their apprentices are quite as accomplished as you."

Stella could feel herself begin to blush. "Me? Look at you! You're only what—a few years out of school? And you've already written at least three essays on undiscovered species of dragon. I did my thesis on your study of the hibernation tendencies of the dragons in the northern hemisphere."

Charlie laughed, his own ears a little red. "Alright, alright, enough flattery. We've almost reached the camp up over there—see?" He pointed to a cluster of small tents in a small area that was cleared of snow. The smaller tents were circled around five larger tents, which were circling four or five fire pits. Charlie led her into the smallest of the tents in the center, which proved to be a sort of common room. "This is the lounge. If you ever get any time off, this is where to come. There's always some debauchery going on here." They walked through an opening in the back of the tent that led to the next one. This one was more open, larger, and dimly lit. In the center, a skeleton of a large adult male dragon was revolving slowly in midair. There were several wizards taking notes and scribbling frantically on pieces of parchment, some muttering to themselves as they did so. Charlie put his finger to his lips and pulled Stella through the tent by the hand. "That's the tent for the ancient dragons—I think Muggles call them dinosaurs?—anyway, I don't forsee us ever working in there, but some of your fellow apprentices might." The next tent was louder and busier. Wizards were working on long tables and chatting animatedly while comparing notes. A few of them shouted out a greeting to Charlie, who smiled and waved in response. "This is the research and development tent. When we're not doing field work, we're most often in here, going over all of the paperwork." Charlie paused, watching Stella carefully. "Are you okay? Not feeling too overwhelmed, are you?"

Stella smiled. "I'm okay, just taking it all in. This camp is about twenty times bigger than the field research place I worked at back home."

Charlie smiled. "Well, most of the apprentices haven't done _any_ field work yet, so you've already got a leg up on them. Besides, I think you'll like the next tent." He was right. The next tent was massive on the inside and had rows and rows of shelves lining the walls. There were several round tables at which several wizards sat pouring over large volumes in several different languages. Stella smiled almost in spite of herself and took a deep breath, savoring the scent of old books that she so loved.

"How did you know that I love libraries?" Stella said, running her fingers along the spines of the large volumes closest to her.

"I read your short answer essay questions. Your grandfather was a librarian?"

"Yes. He was a Muggle, but he just loved books. He used to read all my dad's old school books just for fun. I wanted to take him to one of the libraries at my old school but—well, he got pretty sick. He still worked in his library back home though. I always think of him when I go to a library. He died last June."

"I'm sorry."

"Well, it's okay. He got to see my brother and I graduate from middle school and he always said after that he'd kick the bucket happily."

"You have a brother?" Charlie asked, holding open the flap of the tent and guiding her outside.

"Yeah, one. He's a big Quidditch buff. He wants to play for the American team—he's a beater. Oh, wow." Stella said, finally taking in her surroundings.

This tent was made magically larger to hold the twelve large circular tables and mass amounts of chairs inside. There was a long, narrow table at the front onto which several wizards in red robes were piling mass amounts of food. Stella's stomach grumbled loudly and she blushed.

Charlie laughed. "Let me take you to your tent so you can get changed for lunch. I'm pretty hungry myself. I'll save a seat for you at my table, you'll get to meet a few apprentices as well."

Charlie led Stella to a tent on the outer circle that was directly behind the library tent. "Thank you! Here's your coat, Mr. Weasley."

"It's Charlie. You're only five years younger than me. No need to be so formal. Go get changed. Oh, and Stella?"

She turned, hand on the flap of her tent. "Yes?"

"I'm glad you're my apprentice." Charlie smiled and left, leaving Stella blushing and speechless behind him.


End file.
